by Kara Lennox
Eric had never resented it. He’d loved his time with MacKenzie. But sometimes he’d wondered if his wife and daughter had bonded properly.
And now he wondered what sort of magic touch Bree had, to get his daughter to open up like that. He had to stand on his head and whistle to coax a smile out of MacKenzie, yet with Bree she was relaxed and happy even with the stomach flu. How had Bree managed to get MacKenzie to lose that tense, guarded demeanor she habitually wore like a favorite security blanket?
Suddenly Bree looked up, and their eyes locked silently for several heartbeats.
“She fell asleep,” Bree whispered. “And you’re late.”
“Actually, I wasn’t. I just...” Should he just admit he’d been watching them? “I saw she was dropping off and didn’t want to spoil it.”
“Oh.”
“My daughter seems to have taken quite a shine to you. A far cry from that first night when she threw a tantrum because she thought you were going to give her a shot.”
“Any port in a storm,” Bree said. “I was here, you weren’t, and she needed someone.” Bree gently eased herself away from the sleeping child and put a pillow under her head. MacKenzie didn’t stir. “I think she’ll be okay here for a few minutes. We can go in the other room and talk.”
Oh, right. Bree hadn’t shown up here just so she could care for a sick kid. They both walked into the kitchen area, and Bree reclaimed her nearly untouched coffee cup. She wrinkled her nose at it.
“Get some fresh. That’s got to be stone cold by now.”
She nodded, dumped the cup’s contents into the sink and poured a fresh cup from the industrial-size percolator that never went empty. Eric hadn’t noticed anyone cleaning this room or replenishing supplies, but obviously, someone did.
Maybe Daniel had a legion of elves to do his bidding.
Bree took a long sip of her coffee, looking supremely uncomfortable. “I got some news today. The sheriff questioned Jerrod and impounded Philomene’s car. They found trace amounts of blood in the trunk.”
“Oh, no. I’m sorry.”
“Dr. Gentry said they’ll need to do more tests to determine if it’s Philomene’s blood or if it’s even human, but I have a bad feeling.”
“So do they think Jerrod did it?”
“He’s an easy suspect. And knowing Sheriff DeVille, he won’t look any further if he can pin the crime on the boyfriend.”
“Now that law enforcement is involved, it would be better for us to back off.”
“I just want to know for sure. I’ve tried calling Philomene back at her new number, but she won’t answer. It always rolls to voice mail, and there’s no outgoing message in her voice. I understand why she wouldn’t want to talk to me. If she’s still alive, she obviously regrets having confided in me and wants to put it behind her. But I can’t help but think—”
“What?”
“That whoever the real murderer is wanted to shut her up for good this time.”
Oh, no. Why couldn’t she let this go? “Bree, I know you’re really attached to the idea that there’s an alternate murderer out there, but think about it logically. How would this mythical real murderer have even known Philomene was going to change her story? Did you tell anyone?”
“Only you and Daniel Logan. But Philomene must have told someone, because the story was out there. Molly, the hostess at the café, even asked me about it.”
“Okay, so she told Jerrod. Now Jerrod is spreading it around because he’s hoping to get people to focus on someone besides him as Philomene’s killer.”
“You have an answer for everything.”
“Bree, if you came here to try to get Project Justice to reconsider—”
“I didn’t,” she snapped. “Actually, I came here to get those tire-impression pictures from you. I thought I should turn them over to the sheriff now that he’s actually looking into Philomene’s disappearance.”
“You could have called.”
“I know. I had to come to town anyway and I thought I’d just swing by.” She said this a little sheepishly, which caused him to wonder—was Bree inventing excuses to see him? Did she feel the same pull he did? Because no matter how many times he told himself he needed to get her and her doomed cause out of his life, he was never disappointed to see her.
And after that kiss...
“I turned the photos over to the lab. We can drop by and see if Beth or one of her assistants has had time to analyze them. But...” He nodded toward the doorway to the seating area where MacKenzie slept.
“I can watch her.”
“Actually, I thought you might like to see the lab. It’s pretty nice. Small, but it has all the latest equipment—every kind of laser and microscope and spectrometer and whatever.” He thought as a woman of science, Bree might appreciate the sweet setup they had at their disposal.
“Daddy!” came the panicked call from around the corner.
Eric was at his daughter’s side in five quick steps. “I’m here, pumpkin.”
“Where’s Dr. Bree?”
“I’m here, too.” She waved from behind Eric.
“I’m hungry.”
“Not too surprised about that,” Eric said under his breath, since she couldn’t possibly have anything left in her stomach. “Okay, let’s get you home.”
“But what about—” Bree began.
“I’ll take you upstairs and introduce you to Beth, but then I’m out of here. I need to get her home.”
“Right.”
The lab took up half of the third floor, and it looked like something from a futuristic movie or a space station. Every surface was aluminum or some kind of bright white composite material that was impervious to bacteria. There were gadgets of every description—from monstrous machines with lenses like giant eyes to tiny measuring devices the size of a pen. Glass-front cabinets were filled with mysterious-looking chemicals. One white-coated technician stood at a counter sifting through what looked like vacuum-cleaner dust. Another was putting test tubes into some kind of machine.
Beth McClelland, the lab’s director, was in her office—separated by glass walls—peering at a computer screen.
Since the technicians were so engrossed in their work they didn’t even look up, Eric went straight to Beth’s office and tapped on the door. She jumped, then smiled and motioned for him to enter.
“You brought MacKenzie!” she said with obvious delight. Beth had met MacKenzie at Daniel’s house on Christmas Eve—the day Eric had been released from prison and reunited with his daughter.
MacKenzie wasn’t interested in making nice. She hid her face in Eric’s shoulder, her arms clamped tightly around his neck.
“Actually, she’s sick, and I’m taking her home. But I wanted to introduce you to Bree Johnson. The tire impressions I gave you are her concern.”
“I was just sending you an email, Eric.” She stood and offered her hand to Bree.
“I hope it’s okay, doing this for me when it’s not a Project Justice job,” Bree said.
“It’s fine. The lab is an autonomous corporate entity. I take on lots of outside work.”
“But you probably get paid for it. I’d be happy to—”
“It’s taken care of. So let me tell you the results. The tires are Continental Sport Contact 270/40R20s, most likely from a late-model Range Rover Sport.”
Bree gasped. “Oh, my God.”
Eric and Beth looked at each other. “I take it this means something to you?” Eric said.
“Only one person I know in Tuckerville—anywhere, actually—drives one of those. Sheriff Bobby DeVille.”
CHAPTER NINE
“THAT IS BAD.” Beth looked troubled. “There is nothing more dangerous than a criminal in law enforcement.”
“You soun
d like you speak from experience,” Bree said.
“We had a case here last fall. A Montgomery County sheriff’s deputy was put in charge of investigating the murder he committed. Catching him almost cost some lives.”
“Of course, we might be jumping to conclusions,” Eric said.
“Or not,” Bree said. DeVille was like a god in Tuckerville. Not everyone liked him, but they all respected him—and some feared him.
“Bree, you could be in danger. The sheriff knows you won’t rest until you find Philomene. If he’s responsible—”
“Oh, God. But why would the sheriff want to kill Philomene?” Then Bree gasped again. “Because she was going to recant, or he was afraid she would. He doesn’t want Kelly’s conviction overturned. Catching a serial killer was a huge feather in his cap. Being proven wrong would make him look bad, and that is something he doesn’t want, believe me.”
“Bree, you shouldn’t go back to Tuckerville by yourself.”
“What? What am I supposed to do? Move? Leave town, like Philomene supposedly did?”
“Look, we don’t know that it was the sheriff’s vehicle, and if it is, we don’t know why he stopped at the side of the road there. It might not even be related to Philomene’s car. We also don’t know that Philomene’s dead. But I don’t want to take chances until we can check things out.”
“Talk to Ford or Hudson,” Beth suggested. “They’re seasoned ex-cops, both of them.”
“Right now I need to get MacKenzie home. Bree, come with me. Elena will be home soon—she’s my after-school babysitter. Once I get Baby Girl here squared away, we can take a deep breath and figure out our next move.”
“I have to go to work,” Bree objected.
“Call in sick. Just this once,” he added. “I’m not suggesting you go into the Witness Protection Program. But...a couple of months ago, Elena wasn’t quite as careful as she could have been and she was almost murdered. Maybe I’m overly cautious—”
“No, I understand. Just this once, I’ll call in sick.” Truthfully, the thought of going home with Eric intrigued her. She wanted to see where he lived. She felt compelled to figure out what this guy was all about. Maybe his home environment—and his brother and sister-in-law—would help her put more pieces into the puzzle that was Eric Riggs.
* * *
“ELENA?” ERIC CALLED as he came through the front door with Bree right behind him. He had mixed feelings about bringing her here to his home turf. How had this situation gotten so complicated?
MacKenzie, at least, was feeling a little better. At least she wasn’t throwing up or complaining of a stomachache, though she was even more clingy and whiney than usual.
“Eric!” Elena met him at the door. “I am so sorry. I just got your message. I got this new phone and—”
“Don’t worry, it’s okay. Elena, this is Bree.”
The two women exchanged a cautious greeting.
“Want ’Lena,” MacKenzie whimpered.
“Oh, right. A few minutes ago you wouldn’t let go of me to sit in your car seat, but now that Elena’s here, I’m chopped liver?” Still, he handed his child over to Elena, whose arms were outstretched. He was ready for a break. It was exhausting taking care of a child, especially when she was sick.
“You’re not feeling well?” Elena asked as they all trooped from the garage into the kitchen.
“I throwed up,” MacKenzie said proudly. “Twice.”
“Why don’t we go change your clothes, then. Okay?”
Elena looked at Eric.
Eric nodded. MacKenzie was in good hands.
“Do you have any ginger ale? Or something similar?” Bree asked. “She should try to sip some liquids.”
Eric found lemon-lime soda and poured it into a plastic tumbler, which he set on MacKenzie’s nightstand while Elena cleaned her up in the bathroom.
Bree lurked in the doorway. “This room is adorable.”
“You can thank my brother for that. At one point he was planning to adopt MacKenzie. He bought this house and fixed it up for her—he’s a contractor. Then circumstances changed, and he ended up with the both of us. But it’s just temporary,” he hastened to add, not wanting Bree to think he was a mooch or that he was incapable of taking care of himself and his daughter. “As soon as I get settled in to the new job, we’ll find our own place.”
Eric opened one of the dresser drawers and found a nightgown. “MacKenzie’s never sick.”
“Then I’m sure she’ll bounce back quickly.”
“It’s awful seeing your child in pain.”
“Yes,” Bree said softly. He thought her eyes looked unusually shiny. Dear God, was she going to cry?
“Bree, don’t worry. We’re going to work all this out, okay? We’ll find Philomene. If anything’s happened to her, we’ll make sure that person is brought to justice. Nothing’s going to happen to you.”
She quickly wiped her eyes. “Oh—it’s not that. This room is just so— MacKenzie is a lucky little girl to have so many people who love her.”
“She hasn’t always been lucky,” he said grimly. “But I’m determined to give her the best life I can.” Sometimes he wondered, though, if it was even possible to fully heal from seeing your mother stabbed seventeen times.
Elena reappeared with MacKenzie wrapped in a fluffy towel. “I have this under control if you two need to talk.”
“Thanks.” He looked at his daughter, who was working her way into the nightgown he’d laid out for her. “MacKenzie, you go right to bed.”
She didn’t argue, an indicator that she really was sick.
“You want me to make some coffee?” he asked Bree as they went downstairs.
“No. Please, don’t fuss. I’m not even sure what I’m doing here.”
“Because you could be in danger.”
“Look, the sheriff is a pompous jerk, but I really can’t see him killing anybody. I’ll just send him the tire-track pictures like I promised and indicate that I’m turning the whole thing over to him. That should ease his mind if he’s guilty of anything and afraid I’ll find out.”
Eric wanted something to drink even if she didn’t. He grabbed a black-cherry soda from the fridge. “Sure you don’t want something? Coke? Water?”
“Water, please, if you insist on treating me like a guest.”
He got out a glass and ice and filled it from the pitcher of filtered water in the fridge, also giving himself time to figure out where he wanted to go from here.
He’d be the first to admit he was in over his head. He knew a lot about criminal justice from his legal training and his own arrest, trial and appeals. And working for Project Justice was a crash course in investigative techniques. But that didn’t qualify him to investigate a crime. He didn’t have the tools or the authority or the manpower to do it properly.
“Thanks.” She pulled out a chair from the small kitchen table and took a polite sip of her water.
He joined her. “Maybe it’s time to talk to the Texas Rangers.” Texas’s state police force often assisted smaller law enforcement agencies with major crimes, and they also investigated police corruption.
Bree did not look thrilled about the idea. “Great. I’d just love to face off against another round of good ol’ boys who will no doubt pat me on the head and tell me to run along and stop imagining things. And you never know who might be a friend of Bobby DeVille’s. They probably all belong to the same gun clubs and go to the same shooting ranges.”
Damn. He was sure he’d come up with a brilliant solution.
“What if this whole thing is connected?” Bree asked. “What if the real killer found out Philomene was going to recant and silenced her? You have to admit, the timing is suspicious. She vanishes less than twenty-four hours before she was going to talk to you?”
But damn it, he suspected she might be on to something. And while he had a vested interest in keeping Kelly Ralston behind bars and safely away from his family, he didn’t want to be responsible for allowing a serial rapist/killer to continue running free.
“Have there been any other victims since Ralston was incarcerated?” Eric asked. “There was a string of five, right? Plus Philomene’s attempted murder.”
“No new cases that I know of. Certainly not in Tuckerville or Becker County. Oh, you think that means the right guy is in jail, right?”
“The thought does cross my mind.”
“But maybe the real murderer moved away. Or he got smarter, started spreading out his crimes so the pattern would be harder to discern. Or maybe he started doing a better job hiding the bodies.”
All of those were possible. Killers did learn from their mistakes. Their killing styles sometimes evolved.
Bree set down her glass. “I want to talk to Daniel Logan again.”
“What? Why?”
“A lot has happened since I last talked to him. I think I can make him change his mind.” Bree looked Eric in the eye, challenging him to contradict her.
He had to keep Daniel out of this at all costs. What if Bree succeeded? She was very persuasive, after all.
But even Daniel couldn’t understand the visceral fear that Kelly’s threat produced inside Eric’s gut, even now. Eric couldn’t take a chance that Kelly would somehow get released.
“Daniel is a very busy man. Once he makes a decision—”
“I don’t have anything to lose. I mean, what’s the worst that could happen? He’ll say no. He’ll refuse to see me.”
“Who will refuse to see you?” Elena asked as she swung into the kitchen. “MacKenzie fell right to sleep, by the way,” she said to Eric.
“Daniel,” Eric replied. “Tell her, Elena. Once Daniel makes a decision, he sticks with it, right? He already turned down Bree’s application.”
